


Give Me Envy, Give Me Malice, Give Me Your Attention

by SinnerOnTheRight



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Angst and Feels, Cheating, Choose Your Own Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gay Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Post-Split, Recreational Drug/Alcohol Use, Ryden, Some Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 17:51:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 18,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6817903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinnerOnTheRight/pseuds/SinnerOnTheRight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The aftermath of Brendon running into Ryan at the 2015 Halloween party</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Give Me Envy, Give Me Malice, Give me Your Attention

**Author's Note:**

> If you prefer reading on Wattpad, you can find this story here: http://my.w.tt/UiNb/5haUPoebpy

**Sunday morning, November 1, 2015**

Brendon woke slowly, refusing to open his eyes. He could tell by the peach-colored glow of sunlight penetrating his eyelids that it was late morning, much later than he usually woke up, but he wasn't ready to face the world. He wasn't ready to face the hangover that he could already tell was going to be one of the worst he'd ever had.

He usually didn't drink much alcohol. A couple of beers here, some top-shelf scotch there. He liked a good buzz, but _hated_ being drunk. Weed was his poison of choice. For some reason, it suited him better than alcohol did.

Last night, though? Well, last night had called for unusual measures of mood-altering substances.

He hadn't been ready to see Ryan.

*********

**Saturday night, October 31, 2015**

The night had started off as it did every year. Halloween was one of his favorite holidays and the parties usually ended up being the stuff of legend. Zack came to his house and got into his "Drunk Priest" outfit while Brendon & Sarah got into their skeleton costumes and had their makeup applied by a talented friend of theirs. ("Will this shit ever come off?" he'd asked her, only half joking). The night was young and they were in a festive mood, so they all did a couple of shots of Jack while waiting for the "fashionably late" time to leave for the party.

Zack drove and it was nearly 11 pm by the time they arrived. Light poured from every window of the mansion, which was already jam-packed with people. There were limos still pulling up to the door and dropping guests off. The lawn was full of people gathered together, laughing, drinking, smoking, talking, and in the middle of it all was a temporary dance floor surrounded by twinkling white Christmas lights.

Zack and Sarah were ready to blend into the crowd, but Brendon slowed his pace and they followed suit. He wasn't ready to find out if the rumor was true. He knew that everyone thought of him as overconfident, hyper, craving the spotlight at all times, but that wasn't always true. He couldn't deny that there was a grain of truth to all that, but it was mostly just the character the media had made him into, the character he'd been naive enough to pretend to be. The truth was that more often than not, he craved more quiet and less drama.

Brendon could feel Zack's eyes boring a hole in the side of his head as they walked along slower and slower, but he didn't turn to meet his gaze. Zack wasn't stupid. He'd known Brendon long enough to know when questions or conversation were unwelcome. As their pace decreased even more, Zack stopped walking altogether and announced, "I'm going to the bar, what do you kids want?"

Sarah hesitated for a minute, looking quizzically back and forth between the two men. Usually the three of them just went in together and got drinks at the same time. Brendon smiled reassuringly at her and linked their arms. "Just a Jack and Coke for me. Sarah? What do you feel like?"

Sarah wasn't stupid either. They continued at a snail's pace while she locked eyes with Brendon. "I guess a margarita will work. Thanks, Zack. We'll get the next round."

Zack disappeared into the sea of people and Sarah immediately dug her heels into the ground, forcing them to a stop, and smiled up at Brendon. Damn, she was so pretty. Even after all these years he still felt a magnetic pull toward her. She said, "Okay, out with it."

He turned to face her, raising an eyebrow as he wrapped his arms lightly around her waist. She braced her forearms and open palms against his chest to maintain eye contact. "Out with what?" he replied.

"Don't bullshit me, Urie. Usually you'd be in the middle of the crowd by now. Did you not feel like coming here tonight?"

It always amused him when she called him by his (now _their_ ) last name. He smiled crookedly and dipped his head, pressing his mouth to hers. She dropped her arms until her hands rested lightly on his hips, then returned his kiss. Tilting her head to the side, she parted her lips and sank her teeth gently into his lower lip. He moaned, without meaning to, then pulled back. After all these years together, he still wanted her. "Don't get me hard in public," he told her.

She laughed, then gave him a quick, soft peck on the lips. "We don't have to stay long. Come on, let's just make an appearance, say hi to everyone, have our drinks and head home."

He nodded, taking her hand and starting to walk toward the other party-goers, this time at a quicker pace. _Let's get this over with_.

*********

An hour later, it had turned out to be a really good time. Drinks and good conversation flowed freely, and so far there was no sign of Ryan. Maybe the rumors had been just that: rumors. Brendon felt relieved and (to be entirely truthful) maybe a tiny bit disappointed. But mostly relieved.

Of course, that was the moment he heard a familiar laugh. He felt his back stiffen slightly, and once again Sarah noticed and looked at him, eyebrows furrowed. _Did she ever miss a goddamn thing? Or am I just that easily readable?_

He felt adrenaline kick in, the good ol' fight-or-flight reflex. He didn't know what he wanted to do. It had been too long; this encounter was bound to be awkward as hell. _Probably better if I just_ \--

"Brendon?" It was the voice that belonged to the familiar laugh.

 _Shit_. _Fuck_. He realized just how little he was prepared for this. _Fuck it. Let's get it over with_.

He turned toward the voice, faking an expression of surprise. When his dark brown eyes met Ryan's amber ones, he didn't have to fake it anymore.

Ryan looked _good_. He guessed this shouldn't surprise him, but it did. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. Did he think Ryan would look like he'd aged 50 years in the 5 years since Brendon had last seen him? Maybe. The past 5 years hadn't been easy on Ryan. Going from famous to infamous was the last thing he'd ever wanted or imagined, and what little publicity he did receive was negative. Coke on the coffee table, anyone? Now _that_ was a shit show.

Maybe what surprised Brendon the most was that Ryan looked genuinely happy to see him. His eyes sparkled as he grinned at Brendon and exclaimed, "Holy shit, dude, how are you?" He strode forward, closing the distance between them, and threw his arms around him for a quick hug.

Brendon returned the hug automatically, but his brain was in overdrive. Of course, he'd imagined this moment a hundred times, but he'd always imagined that Ryan would seem more -- insecure? Yeah. Insecure. Regretful. Apologetic. Embarrassed. _Broken_. He'd imagined having to reassure him that he wished him well, didn't hate him, bygones were bygones. Never had he dreamed that _he'd_ be the one feeling insecure.

He took a step back, laughed. Hoped it didn't sound like a nervous laugh. "I'm good, man, how are you? Long time." Stepping back, he gave Ryan a quick once-over, noting that from the neck down he was wearing a furry costume of some sort. He couldn't tell what it was, but it kind of looked like a skunk. Ryan had no makeup on and his light brown hair was shaggy and swept to one side. He looked good.

Brendon felt like all eyes were on them, but when he took a quick glance around, the only people who seemed to be watching were Zack and Sarah. _Sarah_. She looked completely taken aback, blue eyes wide and startled. Zack looked tense and on edge, like he was poised to break up a fight.

 _Fuck_.


	2. Have Some Composure, Where is Your Posture?

**Sunday morning, November 1, 2015**

As tempting as it was, Brendon knew he couldn't stay in bed all day. He opened one eye, groaned, and shut it again. _Why the fuck did I drink so much? Dumbass_.

He heard Sarah walk into the room. She approached the bed and said, "Hey. Brought you some coffee."

He groaned again. "Thanks, but I think I just need some water. Lots and lots of water."

"That bad, huh?"

He opened one eye again and looked at her, nodding slightly. "That bad."

She sat down on the edge of the bed. "Guess the whole Ryan thing threw you for a loop, too." He didn't respond. His thoughts were jumbled enough already.

"I think it went pretty well, don't you?" she prompted.

He met her gaze, nodded. "Best it could."

In one swift movement she lay down beside him, snuggled into his side, pressed her face into his neck. "You knew he was going to be there, didn't you?" she murmured.

He considered lying, but it felt like too much effort in his hungover state. He raised his hand to stroke her hair, and murmured, "Spencer heard he might be there, but I didn't think he really would be. You know we don't usually run in the same circles."

She lay still, not responding, just absorbing his answer. He realized that most women in her situation would be angry, accusatory, but that wasn't her style. It was just one more thing he loved about her. He wished he could say something to make her feel better, but right now he was at a loss. Instead, he rolled onto his left side to face her, letting his right hand trail from her hair down along her side until he reached her hip. He trained his eyes on hers, trying to make them convey the words he didn't know how to speak. Within seconds, hers began to fill with tears, but she blinked, laughed, and told him, "You look like shit. I'll go get you that water."

*********

**Saturday night, October 31, 2015**

_Pull it together, you idiot_ , Brendon told himself. _You got this_. Jumping into action, he said to Ryan, "Hey, you remember Sarah, right?" No need to ask if he remembered Zack. Ryan had been his boss.

Ryan nodded, smiling at Sarah. He walked over and said hello to her, then surprised Zack with a strong handshake and a "Long time, man. How you been?"

Zack squinted at him for a second, like he didn't believe that Ryan was being sincere. "Not bad. Yourself?"

"Keeping busy."

Turning back to Brendon, Ryan said, "Well, I better get back to my dudes. It was really good seeing you again. We shouldn't have let this much time go by. Get my number from Spence, give me a call." Brendon nodded, at an unusual loss for words. Ryan headed back across the room toward his group of friends, and Brendon headed directly for the bar after draining his glass, calling over his shoulder to Zack and Sarah, "You guys want anything?"

*********

Drinks number 4 and 5 went down fast and smooth. Sarah looked concerned, but burst out laughing when he grasped her arm and dragged her to the outdoor dance floor, shaking his ass the whole way. He was a really good dancer, although he never considered himself to be one. She went along with it. It was a party, after all. No need to let one uncomfortable encounter ruin the whole night.

That's when Brendon looked up and saw Ryan standing on the lawn just off the dance floor, talking to a blonde woman Brendon didn't recognize. As if he sensed someone watching him, he looked up and met Brendon's eyes, nodding and tipping his beer toward him. Brendon looked away. He was suddenly irrationally annoyed at Ryan for encroaching on his territory.

The song ended and a new one began with a slow, melancholy piano intro. Ruth B.'s "Lost Boy." He pulled his wife close, pressing his face into her hair, swaying together.

 _My only friend was the man in the moon_  
_and even sometimes he would go away, too_

Ryan hadn't heard the song before, but he found himself straining to hear the lyrics over the noise of the crowd. He forced himself to look away from his old friend, even though it was difficult to tear his eyes away. Who was he kidding? He'd missed him.

 _He came to me with the sweetest smile_  
_Told me he wanted to talk for awhile_  
_He said, "Peter Pan, that's what they call me_  
_I promise that you'll never be lonely" and ever since that day_

*********

An hour later, Ryan strode to his car, chuckling quietly to himself. He'd done it. The only reason he came to this dumb party was because he knew Brendon was invited too. It was the perfect opportunity for him to orchestrate a sneaky, semi-public reunion.

It had been years, and until now, Ryan hadn't been ready to see him. Now, though? Things were looking up for him. He had distanced himself from Shane, his crazy-ass, crass manager/"friend". He had a lot of _real_ friends, many of whom were in the music business, and he was working on new music. _Good_ new music. It was the first time in years that he felt hopeful about his work. The spark had been reignited within him.

He knew that Brendon (a.k.a. Panic! - _what a joke_ , thought Ryan) was working on a new album himself. Ryan wasn't bitter about it. Well, maybe just a tiny bit. _Must be nice to keep cranking out cookie-cutter pop songs with half-ass lyrics_. Brendon could release an album of himself burping and it would sell a million records just because people liked the way he looked.

Nearing his car, he clicked the remote in his hand and unlocked the doors. He was just reaching for the driver's side door when he heard the familiar voice. A voice that was etched into his memory, ingrained within him for all time. A voice he'd allowed to take the place of his own in the band that Ryan himself had created. "Running away?"

Ryan straightened, turned towards Brendon. He watched him emerge from the shadows at the edge of the street, and he smirked at him. "Nothing to run away from," he said, just a tad arrogantly.

Brendon sneered. "Couldn't say that 6 years ago, could you?"

Ryan narrowed his eyes, realizing that Brendon was drunk and this wasn't the best time or place for a confrontation. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, planted his feet far apart and stood his ground, wordlessly.

Brendon came closer, within reach. He stopped just a few inches from Ryan and adopted the same pose as his former bandmate.

A few seconds passed, but it felt like a lifetime. Finally (and just as Ryan expected), Brendon couldn't take the silence and blurted, "What are you even _doing_ here? These people aren't your friends."

Ryan could feel his own temper rising, and he struggled to keep it in check. In a carefully controlled voice, he said "You're not the only one who has famous friends, you know."

"They only invited you because they knew I was coming. It was some fucked-up attempt at seeing what would happen if we ran into each other. I don't think I'll be talking to them again after this."

Just like that, Ryan snapped. He lunged forward, shoving Brendon hard with both hands, right in the middle of his chest. Brendon stumbled several steps back but -- miraculously, considering how drunk he was -- didn't fall. Sarcasm dripping from his voice, Ryan said, "yeah, that's right. They only invited me because of you. _Everything_ that ever happens to me is only because of you. Is that what you want me to say? Some things never change, huh? Well, how's this? Thank God for _you_ , because I'd be a nobody if you hadn't made me what I am today."

Brendon looked shaken, but also thoroughly pissed off. "So you're still going on about this, huh? Six years after the fact, you're still bitchin' and moanin' because I was the more 'popular' band member?"

Ryan snorted derisively. He took a minute to formulate a response, looking at Brendon while he thought it over. It was amazing he'd even known it was Brendon at all, with all that Halloween makeup caked on. The only recognizable feature on him tonight was his dark brown eyes. But Ryan would know those eyes anywhere.

Finally, he said, "I don't care how 'popular' you were. I just wish you'd acknowledge, for once, that _I'm_ the one who helped make _you_ what you are." He delivered these words gently. He knew that Brendon's talent (and, ok, yeah, looks) made up 80% of why he was famous. But the other 20%? That was all Ryan. His writing, his direction, his creation. If Brendon hadn't met Ryan, that 80% wouldn't exist, because he'd still be living in his hometown, playing at church events and local schools.

Brendon's eyes widened. His fists clenched and unclenched, and he looked so furious and enraged that Ryan was half expecting to get punched. Instead, Brendon took a step forward and grabbed a fistful of Ryan's shirt with his right hand, yanking him closer. Ryan's breath hitched. Of all the things he'd been anticipating, this wasn't one of them. They were so close to each other that their noses were almost touching.

Ryan reached down and grasped Brendon's fist, trying to loosen the grip he had on his t-shirt. Instead, Brendon only tightened his hold and brought his left hand up to roughly shove his fingers into the hair on the back of Ryan's head.

_So this is it, then. We always come back to this, don't we?_

Ryan leaned forward, closing his eyes, every inch of his being racing with adrenaline. He was ready for the kiss, ready and surprisingly willing. He already felt himself getting hard. _Some things REALLY never change_.

And then suddenly, with no warning, Brendon let go, shoving Ryan backward and then angrily jamming his fingers into his own hair. "What the FUCK!!" He shouted.

"That's enough, boys," came a grim voice from the shadows. Another familiar voice, another one that Ryan would never forget. Zack's.

Brendon locked eyes with Ryan for a second. Stumbling slightly as he backed away, he muttered, "It seems we're at an impasse."

Ryan rolled his eyes. He'd had his fill of drama for the next year. He turned back to his car, opened the door, and delivered his parting shot as he climbed into the drivers seat.

"Haven't we always been?"


	3. It's Much Better to Face These Kinds of Things With a Sense of Poise and Rationality

**Saturday, October 31, 2015/Sunday, November 1, 2015 (Wee hours of the morning)**  
  
Zack approached Brendon as Ryan's car sped away from the curb, putting an arm out to steady him but then dropping his hand before making contact. "Let's go."  
  
Brendon began stalking toward the house. "Where's Sarah?" he barked.  
  
Zack said, "She was inside talking to Pete last I saw. She didn't see anything."  
  
"Well, there wasn't anything to see, was there?"  
  
_Oh, there was plenty to see,_ Zack thought. He was glad he'd had the forethought to come looking for Brendon. There was no telling what might have happened if that scene hadn't been interrupted. God knows it wasn't the first time Zack had ever deliberately interfered in similar situations between those two.  
  
"He's such an asshole," Brendon muttered.  
  
"I suspect he had his reasons for coming here tonight," said Zack.  
  
Brendon didn't reply to that. He made it inside, found Sarah, and took a huge swig of her drink. "Ready to go?"  
  
She nodded. "Yup. Let's call it a night."  
  
**Sunday, November 1, 2015. (Late morning)**  
  
Brendon finally rolled out of bed, grimacing. He wanted to shower and smoke a blunt, not necessarily in that order. He gulped down the water Sarah had brought him, grabbed his iPhone, headed towards his home studio and set about rolling a blunt. Just the act of it alone soothed him, and after a few deep hits he felt himself relaxing. He hadn't realized how tense he actually was. Checking his phone, he saw that he had 3 texts.  
  
First one was from Spence. "Heard you saw Ry last night, howd that go?" (with a wide-eyed, blue faced, scared-looking emoji). Brendon winced, typed back, "Was fine. Good as could be expected. Least it's over with."  
  
Second text was from Zack. "Let me know if you need some aspirin, or if you want me to kick some scrawny ass for ya." He smiled at that, shaking his head. Typical Zack.  
  
Third text was from Adam, who had hosted the party. "Didn't realize there was bad blood or wouldn't have invited him. No harm meant, sorry dude!" (Peace sign emoji).  Brendon's finger hovered, about to tap a response, but he hit delete instead.  
  
Stretching, he headed for the shower, stopping in the kitchen first to get more water and wash down a couple ibuprofen tablets. He was met by Bogart and Penny Lane, little tails wiggling and nails clicking against the floor, and he smiled, stopping to pat them and talk to them. Such sweeties. He loved those dogs.  
  
In the bathroom he took a quick look at his face in the mirror. In his drunken state last night, he'd tried to remove the face paint, but around his ears and along the sides of his nose there were still splotches of black. Standing under the steaming hot water pouring from the shower head, he scrubbed his face  & allowed his mind to wander. What the _hell_  had that been about last night? Why did Ryan put on such an act about being happy to see him at first, then verbally attack him later on? Brendon wouldn't allow the thought that maybe _he'd_  been the one to start the argument occur to him. Truth be told, he didn't really remember how it started. He _did_  remember wanting to punch him, but then that was overshadowed by the unbelievably powerful urge to kiss him. _And Ryan was going to let him._  
  
In spite of his lingering hangover, he felt his dick twitch, liquid heat spreading through his belly when he remembered the way Ryan's eyes had drifted closed, the way he'd leaned in, mouth parted. For a second Brendon entertained the thought of inviting Sarah into the shower with him, but it occurred to him that she wasn't the one he wanted right now. Instead, he grabbed the bar of soap, lathered up his right hand, and began to stroke himself hard and fast, eyes closed, head falling back. It didn't take long at all before he was stifling a gasp, bracing himself against the shower wall with his left hand, and coming all over the shower floor.  
  
_Fuck_.  
  
He washed his hair, soaped up his skin, rinsed himself and the shower floor thoroughly and stepped out, drying off with a soft, thick bath towel and then wrapping it around his waist. The day stretched ahead of him and he felt restless, not knowing what he felt like doing. Throwing on a pair of boxers and his favorite ripped black jeans in the bedroom, he made his way back to the studio, dogs in tow.  
  
***  
  
Later that afternoon, Zack strolled in. "What's good?" he asked Brendon, who looked up from his computer in the studio, eyebrows furrowed in frustration.  
  
"Absolutely nothing _._  I wanted to get some work done, but I got _nothin_ '."  
  
"Something on your mind?" Zack said stoically.  
  
" _No."_ Brendon responded, too quickly, too emphatically.  
  
"Look," Zack said, putting his hands up, palms facing out, fingers spread. A gesture of _I come in peace_. "I've been thinking."  
  
"That never ends wel--"  
  
Zack interrupted him, "I think you should talk to him. Clear the air, get everything out in the open. Like it or not, you're going to be seeing more of him. Spence says his new music is _really_  good, and once his album drops, he's going to be at a lot of the same parties and events as we are."  
  
Brendon stared. It wasn't like he didn't want Ryan to be successful; he _did_. But it hadn't happened yet, and Brendon was used to the distance that was between them. He liked not bumping into him at every social gathering.  
  
"What do you have to lose, really?" said Zack.  
  
"What do I have to _gain?_ " snapped Brendon.  
  
"I dunno. Peace of mind? Or maybe, an old friend back?"  
  
Brendon snorted. "I don't see that happening any time soon."  
  
Zack narrowed his eyes. "At the very least, it would generate quite a buzz. Fans would go friggin' bonkers."  
  
"Don't you think our fans are already bonkers enough without adding fuel to the fire?" he had to laugh at that idea. He _loved_  his fans, but some of them were definitely...interesting.  "The last thing I need is to start being seen with Ryan. Imagine all the new fan fics?" Making his voice high, he used his signature "valley girl" impersonation to say, "They _ship_ us, Zack."   
  
Zack burst out laughing. "I thought you didn't know what the fuck 'ship' meant."  
  
Brendon shrugged, mumbled, "I looked it up."  
  
Shaking his head, Zack said, "You always have to know the internet slang shit, don't ya?"  
  
"Well, it would be dumb of me not to keep up with the times. Pop culture, baby. If you don't know, then you're old."  
  
"I _am_  old."  
  
"Well, _I'm_ not. Just sayin'. Maybe you should start learning. It'll keep you young."  
  
"Pffft. No desire. I got better things to do with my time." Zack said, rolling his eyes.  
  
"Like marathon Game of Thrones and smoke cigars?"  
  
"Hey, I know what makes me happy."  
  
Brendon sighed and leaned back in his chair. He checked his phone again, clicking on the Twitter icon and scrolling through quickly. Zack noticed and cringed, eyes going wide. He waited for it --  
  
"You've got be _fucking_ kidding me!!" Brendon shouted, and threw his phone in Zack's general direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for reading this so far, and for the kudos! As a first-time poster on here, that means a lot to me!


	4. Velvet Lips and the Eyes to Pull Me In, We Both Know You'd Already Win

Zack's arm shot out to catch the phone in midair, but he didn't bother looking at it.  He'd already seen it.

"THIS!!  _This_ is exactly what I was talking about.  _This_  is why we can't be seen together. Jesus Christ, it's been almost 10 years of this and I'm so fucking sick and tired of it!!" Brendon stomped over to snatch his phone back, scrolling through once more.

The video was obviously recorded by a guest's cell phone, and it was grainy because of the dim lighting. Whoever captured it had been standing a good distance away, but still, there was no mistaking that it was Ryan and Brendon in the video. It started with Ryan's shove and ended with Brendon's hand fisted in his Ryan's shirt and his other hand gripping his hair. Thank Christ that kiss hadn't happened, although he was well aware that people would doctor the images to make it look like it had.

Some of the pictures had been captioned. " _Ryden, back at it!", "Fucking or Fighting?", "Just do it, boys."_ The comments beneath most of them were even more offensive and rude. " _Ryan tops." "I'm a straight dude, but I'd fuck Brendon Urie in the ass too." "These two are nothing without each other. Stop doing each other and start making music again, you faggots."_

The video had been made into still-shots and gifs, and all the different formats were being tweeted and retweeted by thousands of people. It didn't surprise him; he'd been in the business long enough to know the nature of the beast. But this time, it stung. He'd been careful for _so_ long, being sure not to give the fans and media more ammo. Hell, he stopped following Ryan on Twitter (although Ryan still followed him, which irked Brendon), he'd cut off all contact with him for years, and whenever he was asked about him in interviews, he gave a quick, perfunctory answer, usually delivered in a monotone, and then changed the subject. When he realized that wasn't making a difference, he decided to try a new approach and joke about it to the fans. He recorded a vine about the infamous Milk Fic, rapping to the tune of Kelis' "Milkshake". The fans loved it, but the end result (and one that he should have anticipated) was that more of them ended up Googling the fic and reading it themselves.

The next time he live-streamed on Periscope, he noticed that the Ryden comments in the chat had nearly doubled. Annoyed, he finally decided to answer the next one outright. "Is Ryden real?" he read the comment out loud. "If you're referring to, were Ryan Ross and I ever in a relationship...NO. We were FRIENDS. And, uhhh...I haven't talked to him in years. Um, but Ryden was not real. Sorry to kill your fantasies," he paused, then laughed. "You fuckin' losers."

The fallout from  _that_  message was worse than the reaction to the Vine. This time, fans didn't think it was funny; instead, they were hurt and sad. They fixated on the statement he made about not talking to Ryan in years. They rewatched the video again and again, overanalyzing his body language, his tone of voice, his facial expressions. ("He said, 'uhhhh' and 'um', that means he's lying!" "Look, he touched his nose, that means he's lying!")

To make matters worse, a couple of months after that, Ryan had made a joking reference about the Milk Fic on his Facebook account (although it could have been written by Shane; Brendon wasn't sure if Ryan was still being "managed" by that asshole). And then Gerard Way had changed his Twitter name to Milk Friend, unwittingly sending fans into a tizzy because they assumed he was referencing the story. He wasn't, but out of curiosity, he then went and read it, tweeting a few updates on his thoughts about it. And then Dallon - ( _et tu, Dallon_ _?_ ) - had to add even more fuel to the fire by commenting under Gerard's post with a photo of two glasses filled with milk, with some splashing into the air and forming a heart shape. Later that night, Ryan had taken to Facebook to make a joke about Gerard wanting to be in the sequel.

Brendon had to admit that it could be funny at times, but it was also getting old. Ten years of making music, meeting fans, and touring the world had provided him with a wealth of experience and amazing stories to share, so it was incredibly disheartening that the only thing the majority of fans and media _really_  wanted to know was "Were you and Ryan fucking?"

Brendon paced the room for a couple minutes, dragging his hands through his hair in frustration. Finally, he slumped back into his chair, left hand spread across his forehead, pressing his fingers into his temples to try and calm the headache that was returning.

Zack said quietly, "You know in the scheme of things this is no big deal."

There was a noise in the doorway and they both looked up to see Sarah. Neither of them had any idea how long she'd been standing there. "I take it you saw what's blowing up the internet right now?" she asked, looking tired. She was used to the rumors too, but after last night all her old insecurities were rushing back.

"Yup," Brendon said, resignedly.

"So, do you want to tell me what really happened?" she asked, leaning against the door frame.

"I ran into him as he was leaving. He was a dick. Words were exchanged, things got heated."

"I can tell things got heated."

He rolled his eyes at her. "Come on, Sar. You know how people always make these things into something they're not. Nothing happened, just an argument." He hated that Zack knew he was lying.

"I wish you hadn't put yourself in that position."

"It wasn't planned."

"I was there, Sarah. Nothing happened. Really." Zack stated. Clapping his hands together, he stretched and said, "I'm hungry. You guys want to go grab some food?"

Brendon's stomach growled and he realized he hadn't eaten all day. "Yeah, let's do it."

*********

They went to a diner down the street that they often frequented. Over cheeseburgers, fries, cokes and (for Sarah) a milkshake, they stuck to small talk, mostly discussing the people (aside from Ryan, of course) who'd attended the party. Brendon couldn't shake his melancholy feeling.

It was dusk when they left the restaurant. Back at home, Zack left and Brendon poured himself a Macallan eighteen and sat at his piano. At first he just played mindlessly, a little Sinatra, the Beatles, Billy Joel. He didn't sing the songs outright; mostly just humming the tunes. He didn't hear Sarah approach, but suddenly she was crouching behind him, slipping her arms around his waist and kissing the back of his neck. She nipped lightly at his skin with her teeth, then kissed her way to his ear, where she whispered, "Just promise me that if anything happens, you'll be honest with me about it." Her actions had been loosening him up, but her words caused him to momentarily tense up once more. In one swift movement, he twisted his body to the left, snaking his arm around her and tugging her down until she was laying across his lap on the piano bench. He wanted to say, "There's nothing to worry about", but he couldn't bring himself to say it. Instead, he said in a rough voice, "I will."

Lowering his mouth to hers, he kissed her, gently at first but then with more urgency. She moaned into his mouth as he slipped his left hand under her shirt, slowly sliding it up across the soft skin of her toned, flat belly. She wasn't wearing a bra and he placed his palm over one of her breasts, stroking her nipple. Against her side, she could feel how hard he was through his jeans, and suddenly she wanted - _needed_ - him right then and there. He moved his hips, rocking against her. 

She slid off of his lap onto the floor in front of him, running her hands up under the front of his shirt. "Off." She instructed. He gave her a sexy half-smile as he pulled the shirt off over his head. On her knees, she leaned forward, placing her hands on his hips, and dropped her face into his crotch, pressing her mouth against his hardness through the denim. He groaned, reaching to gently push her face down harder for just a second, needing the pressure. She licked him, once, twice, harder the third time, until there was a wet mark on the front of his pants. Then she reached for his belt buckle and undid it, pulling it off. Next she undid the button of his jeans and lowered his zipper, reaching inside to adjust his erection so the head of it was showing above the elastic of his boxers.

Sarah bent lower and wrapped her lips tightly around the head of his cock, smiling in satisfaction when he made a low growling sound of approval. She slid the elastic of his boxers lower so she could take more of him into her mouth. Finally he couldn't take it any longer, and he lifted his hips and shoved his jeans and boxers down to mid-thigh, allowing her full access.

She drew the entire length of him into her mouth, keeping her lips tight and her tongue swirling. When there was enough saliva on him to make it comfortable, she wrapped her right fist around his shaft, moving it up and down in perfect sync with her mouth. After a few seconds he gripped her shoulders and said, "Bedroom."

She smiled, and in a throaty voice, said, "Here."

Before he could argue she stood and removed her shirt. His hands immediately went for the button of her jeans and he made quick work of removing them for her. He slid his right hand into her panties and groaned again. "Goddamn, you're so fucking wet." He slipped one finger inside of her and her knees nearly buckled. She shoved the panties down and kicked them off, then climbed into his lap and hovered over him, _so close_. She kissed him hard and rough, pushing her tongue into his mouth, and lowered herself onto his cock, slowly at first and then hard and fast. She rode him shamelessly, grabbing his hair and yanking on it, biting his neck. He filled her completely, to a point where it ached, but she wanted more, more. Within a minute she was crying out, coming hard. He could feel her muscles clenching and unclenching uncontrollably, and suddenly he was coming too, grabbing her hips and holding her down hard against him, moaning her name, pumping into her.

They stayed that way for a couple of minutes, panting, recovering. Then he gently put his hands on either side of her face, raising her eyes to his. "I _love_  you, Sarah."

She pressed her forehead to his. "I love you too, babe."

He closed his eyes, trying to enjoy the afterglow, but the only thing he could think was, _I hope she keeps loving me after what I have to do._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. For those of you who may not have understood the "et tu, Dallon?" line, here's an explanation from Wikipedia:
> 
> "Et tu, Brute?" (pronounced [ɛt ˈtuː ˈbruːtɛ]) is a Latin phrase meaning "and you, Brutus?" or "you too, Brutus?", purportedly as the last words of the Roman dictator Julius Caesar to his friend Marcus Brutus at the moment of his assassination. The quotation is widely used in English-speaking world to signify the utmost unexpected betrayal by a person, such as a friend.
> 
> 2\. I know the Gerard Way/Dallon milk fic Twitter incident didn't happen until April 26, 2016, but since I'm playing "Story God", I plead poetic license and moved the date up a bit. :) I really hope you're enjoying the story so far!


	5. I Regret Never Letting You Know

Later that night, Brendon lay awake in bed, Sarah fast asleep beside him. He wasn't actually trying to sleep; instead, he was thinking, trying to decide what his next move should be. _Since when do I feel like I_ need _to make a move?_  He wondered.

Since seeing Ryan the night before, memories had started flooding back. Once upon a time, they _had_ been best friends. Being on tour meant spending nearly every waking second together for months on end, which was enough to make anyone get sick of one another, but the first year was great. 

He wouldn't say they'd had a "relationship." There were a few - okay, several - times (usually involving too much alcohol) where they'd made out with each other. The first time was just a joke. The way they behaved on stage had everyone speculating on if they were gay, and one night on the tour bus Jon Walker, their bass player, had dared them to kiss. Never one to shy away from a dare, Brendon had leapt onto Ryan and made a big show of kissing him. Ryan had squirmed in protest, but when the kiss ended both of them were a little shaken by how hot it was. The second time it happened, they were alone and drunk, and Ryan had initiated it. It didn't go any further than kissing at that point, because they both ended up passing out.

The next few times it happened, things had moved a little further beyond just kissing. Brendon didn't want to think about that right now. He didn't want to admit that a part of him wished he could relive it all.

When he was in his late teens, he'd questioned his sexuality. For a long time, he'd considered himself bisexual. But then he'd met Sarah and fell in love, and it felt right. He'd never cared about what people thought of him, but being married to a woman he loved was definitely easier than being bombarded with constant media questions about his sexuality -- not that those questions stopped after he was married. Many fans and media people claimed that his marriage was just a ruse to cover up his homosexuality, and that pissed him off. He loved Sarah and he was very attracted to her. If he WAS gay, he wouldn't feel the need to hide it. He was who he was, and people could go fuck themselves.

But maybe he was still just a little confused.

He missed Ryan. There had been a lot of bad times during their final year of touring, before Ryan up and quit. Their personalities often clashed. Ryan was more serious and quiet. He tended to be pessimistic and could be extremely moody. Brendon was generally upbeat, a joker. He loved to make people laugh. Ryan resented that Brendon's looks had become such a big focus from their fan base, and it hurt him that people thought Brendon had written the lyrics that Ryan had actually written straight from his heart. Those words were Ryan's blood, sweat and tears, and his greatest wish was that he had a voice like Brendon's so he could sing them on his own.

The last few months of their final tour were brutal. They avoided speaking to each other most of the time, just showing up for sound checks, rehearsals, and shows, then staying as far away from each other as possible. Every now and then one of them would end up in the other's hotel room or bunk for a middle-of-the-night angry fuck, but it was never talked about after the fact.

Right now, Brendon couldn't think about this any longer. Being careful not to wake Sarah, he slipped as quietly as possible out of bed and headed for the living room, where he poured one more glass of scotch. He needed to relax.

His phone was still propped on top of the piano. In a split second, he made up his mind about what he'd been debating about doing ever since Zack had suggested he speak to Ryan. He unlocked the phone and started a new Periscope broadcast.

The song he began to play was an Edwin McCain tune from 1995. It had never been a song that stood out to him, until one night about 3 years after Ryan quit, and it came on the radio. In spite of having heard it a hundred times before, this time the lyrics had hit Brendon like a ton of bricks.

He didn't bother reading any of the comments that were pouring in through the Periscope chat. Instead, he kept his head down and played.

" _Like a stone in a stream,_

_life smoothes all our edges_

_'til we barely make a ripple anymore_

_Those times in my life_

_will live me forever_

_But we're not the same people_

_that we were before_

_And I'm sorry for the smiles we missed_

_and the times that I blew it_

_I've got so much to tell you,_

_I don't know where to start,_

_Maybe I'll find a way,_

_maybe you'll help me do it_

_'Cause friends like us_

_should not be apart_

_And I'm sorry to a friend..."_

He felt his eyes welling up at the end - sometimes he cursed the fact that he wore his heart on his sleeve - and he hurriedly ended the song and the broadcast. There was no taking it back now; it would be all over YouTube within hours.

He felt a flicker of regret. His impulsivity had gotten him in trouble many times before; maybe this wasn't something he should have done. But...it was done. _Everything happens for a reason,_  he told himself. He tossed back the rest of his scotch and headed back to bed, back to the safety and warmth of Sarah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't heard the Edwin McCain song, go check it out. It breaks my heart!  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EdRLZL95574
> 
> Thanks again for reading! Please leave comments, they make me really happy. (Even if it's criticism, I can take it!)  
> This story is going somewhere, I promise. I'm still not sure where, though. :)


	6. I'm the Light Blinking at the End of the Road, Blink Back to Let Me Know

Brendon woke up to the smell of coffee, bacon and eggs. Sarah was already up and cooking. He stood up, stretched, and took a minute to greet Bogart and Penny Lane, who were lying at the foot of the bed.

Entering the kitchen, he saw Sarah at the stove and approached her, hugging her from behind. She relaxed, leaned back against him, and said quietly, "Couldn't sleep last night?"

He didn't need to ask; he knew she'd seen the Periscope. He also knew better than to try and play it off like it was nothing. She knew him better than that.

"I probably could've slept if I'd tried, but that song was something I had to do."

Sarah lifted the frying pan off the hot burner and set it down with a clatter on the back of the stove. Turning to face him, she said in a slightly cold tone, "I understand. But it would have been nice if you'd let me in on what you were planning."

He felt a stab of guilt. She was right. He'd entered into their marriage with the intention of being the best husband he could possibly be, and a big part of being a good spouse was not making rash decisions without consulting your partner first. 

"I'm sorry, Sarah."

She looked searchingly into his eyes for what felt like an eternity, then was the first to break the gaze.  She said, "The food is all yours, I'm not really hungry. I'm going to Beth's for a while."

She leaned forward and pecked him on the cheek, then grabbed her purse and headed for the door. Just before she left, she called over her shoulder, "By the way, you might want to smoke up a bit before checking Twitter."

*********

Brendon took her advice to heart. He grabbed his phone, downed a cup of coffee, and ate a piece of bacon on his walk to the studio. Once there, he smoked the rest of the blunt from the previous day. Once he felt sufficiently calm to venture into the depths of online hell, he picked up his phone and tapped the Twitter icon.

Sure enough, the Panic fandom was going completely apeshit over the Periscope. Ever since Ryan had left the band, the heartbroken fans had scrutinized _every single lyric_ that Ryan wrote for The Young Veins and Brendon wrote for the "new" Panic, and those fans theorized that 95% of the words were simply cryptic messages that the two men were trying to send out to each other. For the most part, that was total bullshit. Sure, a few of the songs were about the split and the emotional impact of it. Ryan even stated in an interview once that leaving the band was like breaking up with a girlfriend. It was only natural for true songwriters to put their thoughts and emotions into their lyrics.

Last night's Periscope, however, was a whole different ballgame. It was glaringly obvious that Brendon had chosen that specific song _for_  Ryan. If anyone were to ask him directly about it, he wouldn't even try to hide the truth.  It was the exact reason he'd done it in the first place.

He read through several Twitter posts. Many people were excited about it, hoping that it meant that Brendon and Ryan were becoming friends again; maybe they'd work together, maybe Ryan would even become a member of Panic again. _Never_ , thought Brendon. They weren't meant to work together, and that would most likely never change. 

Many other people on Twitter were simply harping on the Ryden thing again, stating that they hoped the two men would end up together romantically, at long last.  Still others were upset, expressing their love for Sarah and saying they'd lose all hope in lasting love if he and Sarah ever got divorced.

Brendon sighed and was just about to put his phone down when it started to ring. Glancing at the screen, he saw that it was Zack. He swiped "Answer" and simply said, "Yup."

Zack exploded on the other end of the line. "I told you to TALK TO HIM, dude, not be all PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE about it!!!"

Brendon replied calmly, "That was in no way passive aggressive. You know Ryan and lyrics. I was speaking his language."

"And what exactly are you expecting to happen now?"

"Now...we wait. I don't even know if I _want_  anything to happen. That was my way of apologizing. Hopefully he'll get the message. Aside from that, I don't really care. I said my piece."

"You really think he watches your Periscopes?" Zack said skeptically, but sounding a bit curious at the same time. He'd never given it any thought prior to this.

Brendon hadn't either. He considered for a minute, then replied, "Yeah. I do. But even if he doesn't, well -- all he has to do is open Twitter to find out about it. I'm sure Instagram is blowing the fuck up right now too. He'll see it."

Zack sighed loudly, and Brendon could picture him rubbing his hands tiredly over his face. Finally Zack said, "I think that was a dumb ass move, but I've never been able to stop you from doing dumb ass shit once you decide to do it. My main concern is --" he broke off.

Brendon could hear him swallow, clear his throat. There was a long silence.

"What?" Brendon prompted.

"My main concern is Sarah."

Brendon squeezed his eyes shut, the words as effective as a sucker punch.

"Same here, Zack. Same here."


	7. Give Me a Sign, I Want to Believe

Ryan didn't hear anything about the Periscope until later that night, when Spencer sent him a text asking if he'd watched it. Ryan often went several days without going on the internet at all, because whenever he did it ended up feeling like a full frontal assault of rude comments from ignorant people. Every time he posted a picture on Instagram, there were some sweet messages from fans expressing their love and support for him and his post-Panic music, but the majority of comments were more like this:

_Ryan was kneeling in the bathtub_

_When the fuck will you give us more music?_

_Ryden_

_Do you miss Beebo?_

_Had any milk lately?_

_And the gay gets gayer_

_Cheez Whiz_

_Hey Ryan, you should check out Panic! at the Disco, great band! Guess you wouldn't know..._

There were hundreds of times when he'd been tempted to shut down all of his social media accounts, but that would be allowing the assholes to win. The number of Twitter followers he had didn't even come close to how many Brendon had (167,000 as opposed to over a million), but he appreciated the fans he _did_ have, and he wasn't about to let them down by caving in and disappearing off the face of the earth.

The thing he found most intolerable was the fucking _pity_ that people often expressed toward him. He didn't need their pity. His life was pretty damn good. He definitely had regrets (didn't everybody?), and sometimes the decision to leave Panic was one of his biggest, but he knew it was a decision he'd _needed_  to make. The band was never going to work out the way it had been going. He couldn't have continued living that way, feeling miserable and stifled; barely speaking to the person he'd once loved and considered his best friend, because at that point all they ever did was argue.

A lot of people seemed to think that Ryan must be embarrassed that the music he'd released following his departure from Panic hadn't been successful, but he wasn't. He was _proud_ of that music. It was _his_ creation, nobody else's. Deep down, there was a part of him that believed it would have been more successful if he had the looks and on-stage charisma that Brendon possessed. Not that Ryan was bad-looking; that wasn't the case at all. His eyes were an unusually beautiful color; changing (depending on the lighting or his mood) from amber to hazel to brown. With his full head of longish brown hair and "kissable" (as he'd often been told, grimacing every time) mouth, he could hold his own in the looks department. But Brendon had the "it" factor. He was stunning, whereas Ryan was more "boy next door" hot. There was no arguing that the two of them together helped bring more people to the shows...especially once the rumors that they were lovers started spreading like wildfire.

Ryan knew it wasn't fair to resent Brendon for being the band member that most girls (and guys) came to see. It wasn't Brendon's fault that his personality and looks were incredibly magnetic, and on top of it all, his stage presence and voice were amazing. Still, the resentment was inevitable and hard to suppress, and it was a major factor in the demise of the original Panic lineup.

Dottie trotted into the room, snapping Ryan out of his reverie, and he bent down to stroke behind her ears. He'd always been a dog person and Dottie offered some of the best company he'd ever had. Grabbing a dog treat from a Tupperware container next to his fridge, he tossed it to her and said, "So what do you think, Dot? Should I watch the stupid thing or not?"

Spencer hadn't given him any details about the Periscope broadcast; he'd just mentioned that should see it. For a minute, Ryan wished that Jon was here to watch it with him but he and Jon had drifted apart in the previous few years. Jon had always agreed with Ryan's opinion that Brendon had a penchant for overexposing himself. He liked to be seen and he liked to talk, which became even more apparent when he started posting Vines, and then of course Periscope Q & A's. Ryan had watched quite a few of them and had to admit they were pretty funny. He missed that about his old friend. Ultimately, though, all the media coverage and internet footage of Brendon annoyed him. Did he _always_ have to be the center of attention? And smoking weed online for everyone to see, even the 11 year old fans that were undoubtedly watching? If Ryan pulled that shit, he'd be crucified for it. It had been 6 years since the infamous cocaine picture and he still hadn't lived that one down.

He sighed loudly, sat down on his couch, grabbed his phone from the coffee table and pulled up the video on YouTube.

Ten minutes later the video was long over, but Ryan still sat, staring at the screen. His emotions were at war with one another and he wasn't sure which one was going to win the battle.

There was anger. What kind of game was Brendon playing, putting that out there for the world to see? Why hadn't he gotten his number from Spence and called him like a normal person, apologizing in private?

There was surprise. Since when did Brendon even decide that _he_  owed Ryan an apology? He'd always insisted it was the other way around. It wasn't like him to have a change of heart and admit that maybe _he'd_  been wrong all along. Maybe the argument at the party had opened his eyes a little bit.

There was sadness and longing. Ryan missed him. He'd been missing him for years, but lately it had felt stronger and more painful than ever.

The emotion that finally won the internal war was _hope_. Maybe this meant it was time for them to start rebuilding the bridge they'd blown up between them. Maybe they could overcome their differences and truly, finally forgive each other. Ryan knew they were both to blame for everything that had happened, and he was man enough to admit his part in it. More than anything, he wanted Brendon to be part of his life again; in what capacity, he wasn't sure, but anything would be better than nothing at all. The lyric resonated in his head: _friends like us should not be apart..._

He closed the YouTube window and dialed Spencer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly, I didn't make up those Instagram comments - I pulled them right from Ryan's feed. :(  
> I hope you're enjoying this so far. There will be more action soon. Right now I'm just spending a lot of time inside my characters's minds. :D


	8. Fate Will Play Us Out

Spencer answered on the first ring, skipping the formalities and getting straight to the point. "So'd you watch?"

 "I watched."

 "And?"

 "And...uhhhh..." Ryan leaned against the counter in his kitchen, trying to come up with something to say.

"It's your move, man. What are you gonna do?"

 "What am I _supposed_  to do? What's _he_ trying to do? Is he just looking for more publicity? For fuck's sake, he gets enough of that."

 Spencer sighed. "Ry, you know that's not what it's about. It's just his way of reaching out."

 "Yeah, well, I'd appreciate it more if he reached out a little more discreetly."

 "So...what's your move?" Spencer sounded eager, and Ryan understood why. A reunion would be good for all of them, but for Spencer and Jon it would be easy. For Ryan and Brendon, things were a lot more complicated.

 "What do _you_  think I should do?"

 "Well, here's the way I see it. You can go one of two ways."

 "I'm listening."

 "One: you could shock the shit out of him and do your own broadcast. You've never done one before; the fans would go batshit crazy. And Brendon would _not_ see it coming."

 "FUCK. THAT." Ryan said dryly. Broadcasting _anything_  on social media just wasn't his style at all, unless it was a video of Dottie. "And what exactly would you suggest I say in this broadcast?"

 "Doesn't matter. It would be pretty funny if you did, like, an acoustic version of some song. Like...what's that one called?? Somebody That I Used to Know?"

 As annoyed as Ryan was, he laughed out loud. "You fucking dingus."

 Spencer was laughing too, but he continued, "Or wait! What about that Dixie Chicks song? The one she wrote after she talked shit about the president and got death threats for it?"

 Ryan remembered the story but couldn't think of the song. He wasn't a fan of country music, but he made a mental note to look the song up later.

 Spencer continued, "Ooh, I know! That Adam Lambert one, "What Do You Want From Me?"

 Ryan furrowed his brow, considered this. "That one's not bad. What the fuck _does_  he want from me?"

 "Dude. I just thought of the best one yet."

 Ryan groaned, "I don't even wanna kn--"

 "ENDLESS LOVE. Sing Endless Love!"

 "I'm hanging up on you."

 Spencer was laughing hysterically, but managed to choke out, "No, no, don't! I'm done! I'll be serious."

 "Ok, smartass, so that was my first option. What's the second?"

 "Option two is, I give you his number and you call him. Or text him. Or send him a fucking meme. Or a dick pic. Whatever."

 "A _dick pic,_  shithead? You can SUCK my dick. And _why_  should I call him? What good could come of it?"

 "What _bad_  could come of it?"

 "Spencer. Think about it. It would be the friggin' equivalent of opening 10,000 super-sized cans of worms."

 "Hey, that would be good for the earth. All that worm shit, helping gardens everywhere."

 "Ha. You're a regular laugh riot."

 "I speak the truth, my sarcastic friend." Spencer said. "Anyway, I gotta go. I'll text you his number. The rest is up to you."

  *********

 Ryan looked up the lyrics to the Dixie Chicks song. _Oooh, now_ that's _angsty_ , he thought, appreciatively.

 

_I'm not ready to make nice_

_I'm not ready to back down_

_I'm still mad as hell, and I don't have time_

_to go round and round and round_

_It's too late to make it right_

_I probably wouldn't if I could_

He wasn't planning to broadcast anything anyway, but even if he did, that definitely would _not_ be the song he'd choose. The whole point was supposed to be reconciliation, not further rejection and estrangement.

 He looked at the text from Spencer; considered deleting it. He couldn't bring himself to do it, though. Instead he held his finger down on the 10 digits of Brendon's phone number and clicked "Add to contacts."

 Just in case.

 


	9. When I Came Back it Was More of a Relapse

Two weeks later, Ryan still hadn't made a move, and he was thinking about it less and less every day. Life moved on, and it had been moving on just fine for the past 6 years. Sometimes things were better off left alone.

He was gearing up to play a song with Dan Keyes' band Cologne at Emo Night LA, and he was nervous as hell. It had been so long since he'd last been onstage, and this time he was only singing, not playing guitar. It would be strange and awkward to be up there with empty hands, no guitar to hold in front of himself like a makeshift shield.

The crowd at Emo Night was enthusiastic, rowdy and loud, even though it was only 9 pm. The DJs played Fall Out Boy and My Chemical Romance and the crowd literally SCREAMED along with the lyrics. Ryan sat on a metal folding chair in a back room, left ankle resting on his right knee, left foot jiggling nervously. He remembered that when Panic had first started touring, he'd sometimes get so anxious before a show that he would spend 10 minutes locked in the bathroom, vomiting. He wondered when he'd outgrown that particular affliction, and if he was about to regress right back to it tonight.

Dan approached him, holding out an ice cold bottle of beer, condensation dripping down the sides of the brown glass. Ryan took it gratefully and drank nearly half of it in one gulp, then stared down at the concrete floor.

"Y'okay?" Dan said, grinning.

"I'll be fine once I get out there."

"That crowd is going to lose its collective fuckin' mind when you get on that stage, you know."

Without lifting his head, Ryan rolled his eyes up to glare at Dan. "Thanks."

Dan laughed. "Settle down. This means a lot to them. You're gonna kill it out there, and you're gonna love it. It'll make you want to be under the lights again, all the time."

_But it'll never be the same._ The thought popped into Ryan's head, unbidden. He stifled it and said, "I don't know about 'all the time'."

"You'll see. 30 minutes until showtime. You plan to sit here 'til then, or do you wanna mingle?"

Ryan took another swig of beer, gave a half smile and answered quietly, "Sit here 'til then."

  *********

For the most part, Ryan was happy with how the performance went. He _did_ feel somewhat awkward being up there without a guitar, but having Dan beside him made things easier. The heat of the lights on his skin felt familiar and comfortable, and he felt himself relax after singing the first couple of lines. Best of all, though, was the audience. They were thrilled to see him up there, and after he exited the stage (with Dan saying into the mic, "Give it up for Ryro!"), numerous fans approached him to ask for photos and express their love and support. It was heartwarming, and Ryan found himself smiling more than he had in a long time.

After spending 20 minutes or so hanging out with the fans, he headed for the back room again to look for Dan. He pushed the door open and did a complete double take. Brendon was sprawled on the leather couch, looking like he owned the place. _Motherfucker always manages to looks like he belongs anywhere._

Brendon rose and walked toward him, starting a slow, but not sarcastic, clap. "Well done out there. It was good to see you back in action."

"Uhh...thanks?" Ryan said. "What are you doing here?"

Brendon shrugged. "I came to see you."

"Huh. How'd you....oh. Instagram?" Ryan forgot he'd posted an announcement on there. He definitely didn't think Brendon ever checked his Instagram account, so that was surprising.

Brendon shrugged again, noncommitally.

"How'd you get in here without getting mobbed by fans?"

Brendon rolled his eyes. "Years of experience, dude. Years of experience."

They lapsed into a slightly awkward silence, just looking at one another. _I missed your goddamn face,_ Ryan thought. Emotion welled up and he closed the gap between them, pulling Brendon into a tight hug. Brendon wrapped his arms around him and they stood there, holding one another, in a hug that was more than just a hug. It was _I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I missed you, we fucked up, how do we ever fix this?_  

"Whoa! Ho-ly SHIT! Brendon fucking Urie!" Dan strode into the room. Brendon and Ryan quickly jumped apart. "You are NOT somebody I was expecting to see tonight," Dan continued.

"Ha, me neither," said Ryan, chuckling nervously and thinking,  _I didn't think this could possibly get any more awkward._ He and Dan had been in a relationship for a couple of years, but it had ended well over a year ago. Still, Dan knew the history that Ryan and Brendon had, and this was surely going to result in an uncomfortable conversation later on.

"Nice to see you, man," Brendon said and shook Dan's hand.

"Our boy did good tonight, didja see that?" Dan asked him.  _Our boy._

"Fuck right I saw. He owned it." Brendon threw an arm across Ryan's shoulders. Another awkward silence descended.

Dan said, "Well, I'm going to get my drink on. See you guys later." He did an about-face and walked out.

"I don't think he likes me," stated Brendon, in a tone that suggested he couldn't care less.

"Yeah, well, a lot of people who like me don't like you."

Brendon raised an eyebrow at him but said nothing. Ryan sighed. "So now what?"

"Let's follow Dank Eyes' lead and grab a drink."

"Don't call him that. It's old and no longer funny. And honestly, I don't think we should be seen together, so I'm gonna say no to the drink."

Brendon removed his arm from around Ryan's shoulders and turned to face him. "I didn't say the drink had to be _here_." 

Ryan felt frustrated and indecisive, but in the end....it was Brendon. He wanted a few more minutes with him, and he'd denied himself that luxury for a very long time. He groaned in resignation and said, "My place isn't far from here. I have good wine."

" _Now_ you're talking my language, Ross. Now let's sneak out the back and I'll follow you home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, messing with dates here. The Emo Night gig was months after Halloween, but oh well, this is fiction, so yay! :) Thanks for reading and commenting!! More to come soon!


	10. The Mess That We'll Become Leaves Something to Talk About

Fifteen mintues later, Ryan pulled into his driveway, checking his rear-view mirror to make sure Brendon was still right behind him.

_One drink_ , he thought, climbing out of his car and striding towards his house.

At his front door, he fumbled with his keys, allowing Brendon a chance to catch up to him. He could hear Dottie just inside, whining excitedly at his return.

"Aww, is that Dottie?" Brendon said. _He DOES check my Instagram,_ Ryan thought, amused.

"Yep, that'd be her."

Brendon pulled his phone out of his pocket and used it as a flashlight to help Ryan find the right key. In that moment, everything felt so normal, like the past 6 years hadn't happened and they were still best friends, stumbling home from a show or a night of partying.

Ryan opened the door and Dottie came running at them like a steamroller. Brendon dropped to his knees, letting the dog lick his cheeks while he scratched behind her ears. "I knew she'd like me," he said.

"Yeah, everyone fucking likes you, Brendon," Ryan said, but there was no malice behind it. He was kidding, and it had been a long time since he'd last been able to do that when it came to Brendon.

"Not my fault I possess such natural charm."

Ryan pushed the door all the way open and they walked into the kitchen. Brendon started to laugh and Ryan looked at him, annoyed. "What??"

"Dude. It smells like incense in here! You still burn incense? What are we, 18 still?"

"Fuck you, you're the one who got me liking it back then. It calms me down!"

Brendon kept laughing and Ryan crossed his arms defiantly and said, "I knew bringing you here was a mistake."

"Okay, okay, I'll stop, I'll stop." Brendon's eyes swept the room and he took in all the dark wood, all the red accents. "This is really nice, Ry. Very _you."_

Ryan relaxed his stance. "Thank you. I took forever decorating it. One piece here, one piece there."

"You always did that. Even picking out rugs for the tour bus. You and your fashion sense." Brendon smiled, feeling nostalgic for a minute. Maybe it was the incense going to his brain, bringing back memories of burning it on the bus while they sat and passed around a joint.

Ryan's phone vibrated and he pulled it out of his pocket. It was a text from Dan, just two words: _Be careful._ He darkened the screen and set it down on the table.

Ryan walked over and opened a cabinet under the counter, revealing a built-in wine refrigerator. "Red or white?"

"Red. To match your decor."

"You mean in case you spill it in a typical klutzy Bden move?"

Brendon gave a start, his eyes going wide. "Holy shit. Nobody's called me that in years!"

Ryan tilted his head and smirked. "I can't believe I just called you that. Shit. Old habits. Do you prefer Beebo now?"

Brendon burst out laughing. "Fucking _Beebo._  Can you believe that shit? Thing is, it's kinda grown on me."

Ryan selected a bottle of merlot and took down two wine glasses from an upper cabinet. He opened the wine, filled the glasses generously, and handed one to Brendon, who swirled it around gently and breathed in the aroma like a wine aficianado. 

Ryan raised his glass. "A toast?"

"Yeah. To..." Brendon thought for a minute. His brain was suddenly flooded with words, so many things he wanted to say but didn't know where to begin.

"You need me to write your words for you again?" Ryan spoke without thinking, and instantly regretted it. _What a SHITTY thing to say._  

Brendon's eyes flashed heatedly for a brief second, but he shook it off and raised his glass. "To not saying shit like that tonight." He clinked glasses with Ryan and took a long swallow.

Ryan took a sip too, and said, "I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean that. I don't want tonight to end the way it did last time."

"I'll let it slide."

Ryan led him into the living room, where he relaxed onto the couch and Brendon chose an armchair across from him. He searched his brain for something to talk about. Something that wasn't a hot topic.

"So how's married life?" he said lamely.

"Good, good. How's single life? Seeing anyone?"

"Nah. Not since things ended with Dan last year."

"Aaaah. That explains why he gave me the evil eye."

"He did _not,_ " Ryan protested. "We've been friends since the split. He isn't harboring any lingering feelings or anything."

They drank in silence for a few minutes, but this time it wasn't the awkward variety. Ryan got up to refill their glasses, bringing the bottle back with him. 

"Congratulations on the new album, by the way," Ryan said, sincerely. "You deserve it. Doing the entire thing by yourself like that. Pretty impressive."

"Thanks, man. Spencer tells me you've got something new coming out soon too. Says it's really good."

Ryan shrugged, looking shy for a minute. "I'm really happy with it so far."

"Maybe you can show me."

Ryan held up his glass. "Maybe after a few more of these." He grinned.

One bottle of wine turned into two as they killed the time talking about the music scene today; which artists they were enjoying, which ones they wished would disappear. Ryan was feeling pleasantly buzzed, and without thinking, he blurted, "Does Sarah know you were coming to see me tonight?"

Brendon had the decency to look guilty, and that was all the answer Ryan needed. Trying to make light of things, Ryan said, "So I guess that makes me your dirty little secret?"

Brendon looked directly at him, eyes suddenly intense. "Do you want to be?"

Ryan shifted on the couch, tried to ignore the sudden jolt of electricity that coursed through him. He thought of Dan's text. _Be careful._ He chuckled nervously and said, "That's just the wine talking."

Brendon looked into his glass, swirling the liquid. He spoke quietly, so Ryan almost couldn't hear him say, "I wish that was all it was."

Ryan had no idea what to say. They lapsed back into silence for a minute, until Brendon continued, "It's just...I love Sarah. I can't do that to her. But, I mean, _fuck_..."

"It seems we're at an impasse," Ryan said softly, quoting Brendon's own words from the night of the Halloween party.

"What if I _did_?" Brendon said intensely.

"What if you did what?" asked Ryan.

"What if I made a move on you right now? Would you even let me?" He was leaning forward in his chair, like he was considering getting up.

Ryan swallowed hard, feeling a little panic-stricken. "I just...I don't..."

"'Cause I have to. Ever since the party, I've been thinking about that almost-kiss. I know you wanted it too."

"Brendon...no more wine for you."

Brendon set his glass on the coffee table and stood up. Ryan shrank back into the couch and said, "Wh-what are you doing?"

Impulsively, Brendon crossed the room and straddled Ryan's lap, their faces inches apart. "Tell me you don't want it too, and I'll back off," he whispered against his lips.

All common sense drained from Ryan's brain and he simply reacted, grabbing the back of Brendon's head and pulling him forward roughly, smashing their mouths together. It was an angry, heated assault on each other's mouths, tongues clashing like they were fighting each other for dominance. It was a physical representation of all the arguments they'd ever had about music; who was right and who was wrong.

They grabbed at each other's necks and shoulders as the kiss deepened, Brendon grinding down hard to rub their erections together through the fabric of their pants. Ryan moaned, feeling completely out of control. He slid his hands down, grabbing Brendon's ass, pulling his hips forward with each thrust.

Suddenly Brendon broke the kiss, pulling his mouth away and dropping his head down onto Ryan's shoulder. Panting, he said, "Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_."

Ryan ran a hand through Brendon's hair. "I know this is wrong, Bren, but goddammit, if you stop now I'm going to fucking _kill_  you."


	11. Let's Get These Teen Hearts Beating Faster, Faster

Brendon scrambled off of Ryan and sat down heavily beside him, head in his hands, still breathing hard. "I just...I need to...need to think."

Ryan stared at him in disbelief. This couldn't be happening. He was so turned on it physically _hurt._ There was no way they could stop right now.  "You need to _think?!_ " he said, nearly shouting. "Well, you do that then. I'll just be over here jerking off because I don't know about you, but I  _need_ to come."

Brendon's head snapped up and he looked at Ryan, a glint in his eye. An evil smile spread across his face. "That's _it_!"

"What's it?"

"You do you, I do me. That's not cheating." He didn't wait for an answer, just leaned back and got to work undoing his belt and unbuttoning his jeans.

Ryan's mouth dropped open. "Like, a friggin' circle jerk? What are we, teenagers again?" Even as he protested, his hands were going to his own belt buckle.

"If the incense fits..." Brendon pushed his jeans and boxers down, wrapped his hand around his cock, and started to stroke. "You joining me? Because you better make it fast, this isn't going to take long."

They didn't take their eyes off of each other the entire time. Neither of them could remember the last time they'd been this worked up. Breathing heavily, they stroked themselves faster, harder, until Brendon said, "I'm right fucking there..." and Ryan groaned, "Come for me," and they climaxed at the same time, spilling over their hands and onto their shirts, which they hadn't removed in their haste to get off.

Both of them dropped their heads back onto the couch, panting, recovering. "Holy. Shit." Brendon said.

"Yeah." Ryan replied. He reached for the throw on the back of the couch and handed it to Brendon. "Here. Clean yourself up, it's laundry day tomorrow anyway."

They took turns cleaning up and getting properly redressed, then sat in silence for a few minutes until suddenly Ryan started to laugh. It started as just a chuckle, but before long he was doubled over, holding his stomach, laughing like a lunatic.

Brendon stared at him quizzically, one eyebrow raised. Finally Ryan managed to sputter, "You - you fucking blamed it on the _incense_! You - you fucking said 'if the incense fits!' What the _hell_?"

Brendon started laughing too, and soon they were both gasping for breath, wiping tears from their eyes. When they finally settled down, Brendon reached for his wine glass and finished it off. "I should probably go," he said, sounding like it was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Stay awhile," said Ryan. "I want to show you something."

"I think you just did."

Ryan punched his arm. "Funny, motherfucker. Come on." He stood and starting walking toward a doorway off the living room. Brendon rose and followed.

Flipping the lightswitch on, Ryan said, "Now, I know it's no ' _Urielectric'_ studio or anything...but this is where I record."

Brendon smirked. "You fucking wise-ass. How many of my Periscopes have you watched?"

Ryan smirked back. "One or two."

*********

 They spent the next two hours screwing around in Ryan's studio. Brendon was really impressed with the new songs Ryan was working on. Ryan asked for his advice on a few parts here and there, and Brendon offered it. It felt like old times, but without the bickering. It felt _good_.

Next thing they knew, it was 4 am. Brendon said, "I _really_ have to go."

"I know you do," Ryan said wistfully. "Go home to that beautiful wife of yours."

Brendon stood, stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "This was a really good night, Ross."

"Yeah, it was. Anyway, you know where I live now. I'll text you. Don't be a stranger."

"I don't think I could be." _And that's the problem._


	12. Alone in This Bed, House, and Head

It was nearly 5 o'clock in the morning by the time Brendon slipped into bed alongside Sarah, who was fast asleep, dogs at her feet. He wished he could've taken a quick shower first, but realized how suspicious that would seem. He moved in close, spooning her, feeling guilty and worried. He'd always prided himself on being faithful, but if he were to be completely honest with himself, in the back of his mind he'd always known there'd be one exception: Ryan. Maybe that's why he'd avoided him for years. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Sarah.

 Still, as he drifted off to sleep, he smiled a little, thinking of the crazy turn the night had taken.

  *********

When he woke, he opened his eyes to find Sarah staring at him, head propped on her hand. Before he had a chance to say anything, she said, "I just have one question and I want you to answer it truthfully."

He nodded. He'd be honest.

"Were you with him?"

There was no need for her to specify who she meant by "him." 

Brendon nodded again.

She blinked and got out of bed, backing away from him. "Okay," she said, "I appreciate your honesty, so thanks for that. I'm not ready to talk about this right now. I just wanted to know."

"It wasn't like that," he said, thinking _what the fuck WAS it like, then?_ In his mind he was still trying to convince himself that he hadn't cheated, but he knew that was stretching the truth. Most people considered just a kiss to be cheating.  Sarah was more open-minded than most people, however. They'd had an occasional threesome, inviting one of their most trusted male or female friends into their sex life, but that was different because it was always with Sarah's willing consent. This time she'd been left out entirely.

"Okay. Like I said, I'm not ready to talk about this now." With that, she turned on her heel, pulled some clothes from the walk-in-closet, and went into the adjoining bathroom, closing the door behind her. He heard the toilet flush, then water running, and then she came out, looking dressed and ready for the day. Without a word, she left the room, and minutes later he heard the front door slam. She was gone.

He rubbed his face angrily with his palms. "God _dammit_." Well, _that_  hadn't gone well. Suddenly it dawned on him that he hadn't checked his phone the entire night. He groaned and said out loud, "I am _such_  a fucking asshole." Rolling over, he grabbed his phone from the nightstand, seeing that he had 3 missed texts and 2 missed calls from Sarah and 1 text from Zack that simply said, _Dude, you're in trouble._  To this, Brendon typed back quickly, _More than you know._

To Sarah, he texted, _I'm sorry. I should have checked my phone. We were just busy catching up._

He thought briefly about texting Ryan, but then remembered he didn't even have his phone number, and he didn't feel like asking Spencer for it.

His phone vibrated in his hand. A text from Zack: _I'm coming over._  Sure enough, 3 minutes later there was a knock at the door. Most of the time he loved that Zack lived right around the corner. This was not one of those times.

Brendon knew he didn't have to answer the door. Zack had a key; the knock was just a formality. Zack hollered as he entered the kitchen, "Where you at, dumb dumb?"

"Bedroom," Brendon called back, defeated. 

"Get some clothes on and come out here and make me some bacon."

"I'm not your bitch," Brendon yelled, but he threw back the covers and did as he was told. 

In the kitchen, he lined a cookie sheet with bacon and stuck it in the oven, then brewed some coffee.

"So, are you gonna spill it?" Zack asked.

If there was one person in the world he absolutely could _not_ hide things from, it was Zack. "I heard Ryan was playing at Emo Night. I couldn't stop thinking about what you said, how I should just talk to him. So I went." He started. Zack nodded his head amiably, seemingly unsurprised. Then Brendon added, "Somehow or other we ended up back at his place."

Zack choked on his coffee. "Wait, what? Somehow ended up where _what_?"

Brendon nodded. "I know."

Zack stared at him, at a loss for words. "So, then...uhhhh....then what?"

"We drank wine. Made small talk. Messed around with music. His new stuff is good."

"You guys messed around with _music_  together?!" Zack sounded absolutely stupefied. Brendon almost laughed. Zack would be less surprised to find out that Brendon and Ryan had engaged in a circle jerk than that they'd even _talked_  about music together. He wasn't about to reveal the sexual details though. He was only ready to confess to so much.

Pulling himself together, Zack said, "So, it went good then? You guys cleared the air?"

Taking the crispy, cooked bacon out of the oven, Brendon said, "Well, we didn't talk about the past, so I guess no. There was no real 'air clearing' to speak of."

"Hmm." Zack said, nodding. "Maybe sometime in the future."

Brendon waited until they were both seated at the table and Zack had just taken his first bite of bacon to say, "I fucking kissed him."

And then he laughed as Zack choked for the second time that morning.

*********

Breakfast was over and Zack was pacing. "Okay," he said, clapping his hands together. "Damage control. That's what I'm good for. How much are you going to tell Sarah?"

"I dunno." Brendon shrugged. "How much does she _need_  to know? That's what I'm struggling with."

"Well...is this something that's going to happen again?"

There was a _very_ long pause.

Zack sighed. "It's going to happen again."

"Nobody knows the future."

"Don't tell her this time. If it happens again, you need to tell her." Zack said decisively.

Brendon nodded. "Fair enough."

His phone vibrated in his hand. It showed as an unknown number, but he immediately knew it was Ryan. The text said, _I forgot to thank you for something_

He typed back, _What's that?_

Ryan: _The song_

Brendon was confused. What song? One of the songs from Death of a Bachelor? Sure, some of the lyrics were about Ryan, but...his phone buzzed again.

Ryan: _The Periscope_

Ohhhhh...that. Brendon thought for a minute, then decided to take the smart-ass approach. He texted back, _Oh. Sorry, dude_ _, but that wasn't meant for YOU_

A good five minutes passed before he got Ryan's response. _Oh. Welp, you know what they say about assuming_

Brendon doubled over laughing as he typed back, _Dude I'm totally fucking with you. It was all for you_

30 seconds later, Ryan: _Scumbag_

Still laughing, he glanced up to see Zack staring at him, shaking his head, unsmiling. "It's  _so_  going to happen again." Zack said.


	13. Allow Me to Exaggerate a Memory or Two

Sarah didn't return until late afternoon. The minute she came through the door, Brendon swooped in on her. "Okay, listen, I know I was wrong, not checking in with you last night. It was stupid of me, not telling you what I was doing and where I was going. I _know_  you don't want to talk about it, but I just need to say, I'm sorry _._ I'm really, _really_ sorry."

Sarah let him finish, then slowly began putting away the groceries from the bags she carried. He jumped in to help her, continuing, "I started talking to him, and for the first time since the split, it was _good._  We didn't bring up the past, we just talked about music, you know, just kind of catching up. He showed me his home studio and some of the stuff he's been working on,--"

"His _home_ studio?" Sarah interrupted.

 _Oh shit._ Realizing his mistake a second too late and not knowing how to backtrack, Brendon said, "We didn't want to be seen together in public, so we thought it was safest to just go back to his house."

"How convenient."

"It was either that or end up all over the internet, and I don't want that."

"Oh no, because _that_ would be terrible. It's not like it already didn't happen." Sarah said, sarcastically.

"Babe, I'm sorry. I should have called you."

He reached out and she allowed him to pull her into a hug. He felt her shoulders relax slightly and he murmured into her hair, "I won't let it happen again."

She pulled away and said, "I'm fine with you talking to him. Just, you know, maybe invite me next time. Keep me in the loop. I don't like feeling like you're going behind my back."

Brendon nodded. "I know, I'm sorry. It was an impulsive decision." _Which led to another impulsive decision._  "So...we good?"

Sarah sighed. "We good."

*********

The week passed uneventfully. He was able to get some writing done, which made him happy. It felt good to be productive, and it helped keep his mind off of...other things.

He tried to convince himself that the night with Ryan had been a one-time mistake, just a brief, alcohol-induced regression to their former relationship. There were times when he couldn't imagine cheating on Sarah, but there were other times when he couldn't imagine not seeing Ryan again, and he knew he couldn't have it both ways. If he saw Ryan again, shit was going to happen. He wished they could find a way to be friends, but they'd never been able to keep it at that level. Since the day they met, there'd been a chemistry between them that couldn't be denied, and they'd _tried_  to deny it: to themselves, their closest friends, and to their fans.

The first time anything happened between them, it was during the Nothing Rhymes With Circus tour. The first kiss was because of a dare; the second one was because they were drunk. The tour was still new and thrilling, and the adrenaline rush from the shows often caused crazy things to happen backstage. He remembered one night, they barely made it off the stage before Ryan was grabbing him and dragging him into the bathroom. Back then, it was mostly just making out with each other and then going their separate ways, sleeping with groupies instead.

But then there was one night, about a month into the tour. The adrenaline rush was starting to be replaced by pure exhaustion, and after a show one night Brendon found Ryan slumped in his bunk looking miserable. He climbed up and lay beside him. "You okay?"

Ryan shrugged, pushing his face into the pillow. He said, muffled, "I didn't think it would be like this. I don't know if I can do this much longer."

Brendon leaned into him, putting a comforting hand on his back. "It's only temporary. Just get some rest."

They'd ended up falling asleep, waking up in the witching hours of the morning, limbs tangled. They met each other's eyes and simultaneously moved in for a kiss, which started off slow and gentle but escalated quickly into the hasty shedding of clothes. For the life of him he didn't know how they'd managed it in a bunk that small. He remembered the thrill, the heat of skin on skin, how hard they both were. At one point Ryan had pulled back, saying, "Should we do this? What are we--" but Brendon cut him off by slipping his tongue into his mouth, wrapping his hand around Ryan's cock at the same time. After that, there were no more questions.

They were sexually experienced with women, but it was the first time with another man for both of them. It should have been awkward, but it felt natural. They stroked each other long and slow, swallowing each other's moans. Knowing he couldn't hold out much longer, Brendon removed Ryan's hand and moved down the bed. It took a second for Ryan to realize what he was going to do, and when he did, he breathed, "Oh, _fuck..._ "

"Shhh," warned Brendon, and wrapped his lips around Ryan's cock. Ryan jolted and jammed his fingers into Brendon's hair, pulling tight enough that Brendon reached up to smack his hand, laughing with his mouth full.

Ryan knew Brendon had a beautiful mouth, but he never imagined how talented it would be. He took him deep, applying steady pressure with his full lips, adding his hand to the mix after a minute. Ryan was squirming beneath him and it was beautiful. 

Suddenly Ryan froze, tried to push Brendon's head away, "I'm close."

Brendon only began to work his mouth harder, faster. Ryan groaned, "Brendon, I swear to God I'm gonna come..."

"So come," Brendon murmured and latched back on. 

Ryan let go, grabbing fistfuls of covers like he was trying to anchor himself to the bed. His back arched as he watched Brendon swallow his come, wipe his mouth with back of his hand and grin.

"The _fuck_  did you learn to do that?" Ryan asked, sounding awed. He reached down to pull Brendon up the bed. "Your turn."

Switching positions, Ryan returned the favor, a little unsure, but willing to follow Brendon's example. When Brendon was close, he warned him, saying, "Just because I did doesn't mean you have to--"

Ryan moaned, "I want to taste _all_  of you." And Brendon went over the edge, shooting into Ryan's mouth, watching as he gamely swallowed. Ryan moved up the bed again, catching Brendon's mouth with his, the taste of their come mingling and oh _God,_ that was hot.

After that, there'd been no turning back. It didn't happen frequently, but when it did it often started out with them trying to comfort one another when it was starting to feel like the tour was never going to end.

And then Ryan got a girlfriend, which changed everything. The tour ended and they were arguing constantly. Ryan was unhappy with the music. They fought their way through the entire writing of the second album, needing to stay stoned half the time just to put up with one another.

And then Ryan left. And that was that.

Until now.


	14. If You Wanna Start a Fight, You Better Throw the First Punch

The following week was Coachella, and Brendon made a surprise appearance and sang live with Halsey. Fans were beyond thrilled to see the two of them together; it was well known that Halsey was a long-time Panic fan. She'd tweeted that it was her dream to work with Brendon or Ryan, and Ryan had created a slight frenzy by replying to her tweet.  
  
Word hadn't gotten out that Brendon would be performing with her, and as the two left the stage together they talked about how perfectly executed the surprise had gone. "Seriously, that was fuckin' phenomenal." Brendon said, steering her towards a room backstage with Zack and some of Halsey's crew members. They cracked open a bottle of champagne to celebrate. Sometimes Brendon had to pinch himself to make sure his career wasn't a dream. It felt like it got better every day.  
  
That was when there was a commotion out in the hall, a couple of people shouting. Zack instantly went on high alert; he hadn't been a bodyguard for almost 10 years for nothing. He went to the door to look out, which was when Ryan flew past him into the room.  
  
_Ryan? What the--_  Brendon didn't have time to complete the thought. He registered the look of rage that Ryan had on his face, but didn't have time to react before Ryan pulled his right arm back and swung, his fist connecting solidly with Brendon's jaw. There was a crack and he didn't know if it was his face or Ryan's fist. Halsey screamed in surprise and her hands flew to her mouth, eyes huge. These were her idols, she finally got a chance to meet both of them, and they were fighting. Brendon was too stunned to do anything besides bring his hand up to rub his jaw, but Zack had already grabbed the back of Ryan's shirt and was yanking him from the room.  
  
Brendon turned to check if Halsey was okay, and she rushed over to him. "Let me see," she said, and he dropped his hand. "Ooooh...that's gonna leave a mark." She grabbed a cloth napkin and filled it with ice from the champagne bucket, then pressed it to his face.  
  
Zack came back into the room. "That little motherfucker." he grumbled.  
  
"What the hell was that all about?" Brendon wondered out loud.  
  
"You'd think security here would be a little bit tighter."  
  
They stayed a while longer, but the mood had been ruined and Brendon's jaw ached. They decided to call it a night. Brendon was getting angrier and angrier the more he thought about it. He dropped Zack off, watching until his friend disappeared inside his apartment, and then he turned his car around and headed in the opposite direction. He wasn't letting this one go. 

*********

Ryan tried to ignore the knocking, but it became obvious that Brendon wasn't going away. Brendon had been pounding on the door for a solid 10 minutes before Ryan gave up and opened it. He had an ice pack wrapped around his right hand.

"Oh, did poor Ryro hurt himself?" Brendon asked sarcastically, not caring if he sounded like a petulant 6-year old.

"I think I broke my thumb." he mumbled, seemingly chagrined.

 "Learn how to throw a punch, you fucking moron. Never tuck your thumb."

 "It was worth it."

 "WHAT was worth it?" Brendon exploded. "What person in their right mind would do that? And in front of Halsey?! Not very gentlemanly!"

 Ryan winced. That part was bothering him. "I'll send her flowers."

"You're goddamn lucky they didn't arrest you."

"Zack wouldn't let them. You can press charges, if you want. After all, you might lose out on some photo shoots now that your pretty face is messed up."

"You fuckin'--" Brendon lunged and tackled him hard, both of them landing in a heap on the hardwood floor. They wrestled, Ryan pulling at his hair and scratching his neck, until Brendon had him pinned face down. "Seriously, Ross, pulling my hair? You fight like a fuckin' _girl._ "

Breathing hard, Ryan struggled for a minute, then gave up. He was tired. His thumb hurt. The fight went out of him.

"Asshole," said Brendon, letting go and standing up. The last thing he needed right now was to be lying on top of Ryan. As furious as he was, the close proximity still stirred something inside him. "We're gonna need to have this talk, you know."

"What talk?" Ryan asked, rolling over to sit up on the floor.

"The talk about why you can't get past your hatred of me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playing with time again. Coachella wasn't until April. Hope you've enjoyed this so far! The next chapter will be the last (I think), but I'll definitely be writing more fic in the future. Thanks for the kudos and comments, they make my day!


	15. Promise Me a Place In Your House of Memories

"I don't _hate_  you." Ryan said, feeling defeated.

"Oh okay, so you just go around punching people you like?"

"I hate the _situation._ "

"Care to elaborate on what situation you're referring to?"

Ryan stood up and took two bottles of beer from the refrigerator, popping the tops and handing one to Brendon without asking if he wanted it. Of course he did. This was a conversation that called for beer.

"It's like--you can do no wrong." Ryan began. "Everything you touch turns to gold, while everything I touch turns to shit."

Brendon softened. He already knew that Ryan felt that way, although he never thought Ryan would admit it. There were times when Brendon felt almost guilty for it. _Almost._  But then he'd remind himself that Ryan had brought this on himself when he quit the band.

"Ryan," he said now, quietly. "You _quit the band._  We had a really good thing going. You left it behind."

"It was good _once._ You know it wasn't good in the end."

"No, it wasn't good in the end. But that's because there was no compromise. You refused."

"Because you guys were asking me to do _more_  than compromise! You shot down _every_  idea I had."

"Ry, you weren't the easiest person to work with."

"Neither were YOU! I think you let things go to your head there, for a while. You were the golden boy."

"What the fuck are YOU talking about? Nothing ever went to my head. And you wanna talk about golden boys? You were _Pete's_  golden boy--until you broke his heart by giving up the career he'd helped you get."

"Fuck that!! Pete understood that it was a business decision."

"That's right." Brendon said. "A business _decision_. A decision you made that you have to live with the consequences of."

"It's not just that." Ryan said, pacing the kitchen like a caged animal. He felt a little bit caged right now, to be honest. "You _knew_  I was interested in working with Halsey. I was planning on it. Then you go and step in and steal the spotlight _as always_  -- and to top it off, what fucking song do you choose to sing with her? Fucking _Sins. I fucking wrote that song,_ Brendon _."_

Trying to stay calm, Brendon spoke in a controlled voice. "You wrote the lyrics. We _all_ wrote most of the music. We all recorded it. The song doesn't belong only to you."

"That's not the point. The point is, you have this great new album out, you could have picked any of those songs. You chose Sins."

Brendon sighed. "You know that's not how it works. Coachella wanted it to be Sins. They have the final say."

"But it's not just THAT either!" Ryan continued, looking like he was getting worked up all over again. "The worst thing is, _the worst thing IS,_ you come back around and make me _want_  you again. When I can barely stand being in a room with you, you somehow go and make me want you again. And you're married and I can't have you."

Brendon felt a lump rising in his throat, as it suddenly dawned on him what he'd done. He'd acted impulsively (as usual) and overstepped his boundaries, He wasn't just playing with his own emotions here. There were two other people involved.

"Ryan." He said. "You've always kinda had me."

The room grew silent as they both let the words settle over them. The air felt heavy, and both of their eyes were shiny with unshed tears.

"But it'll never work, will it? It'll just never work." Ryan said.

Brendon closed his eyes, and shook his head slowly. "No."

Setting down his beer, he walked over to Ryan and drew him in close for a hug. If the hug they'd shared at Emo Night had meant _I miss you, I'm sorry,_ this one definitely said, _I'm sorry, goodbye_. _We tried._

_I love you._

"Don't be a stranger." Brendon said, stealing the words from what Ryan had said a few weeks earlier. "I want you to stay in touch. Don't fall off the face of the earth like you did before."

"I think we'll always have to be strangers. There's no in between with us. We can only be strangers or lovers. Can't have both."

"Maybe someday it'll be different."

Ryan walked Brendon to the door. He watched as Brendon walked toward his car, heading back home to his wife where he belonged. His throat was tight with emotion, but Ryan managed to call out, "Hey, Bden?"

Brendon smiled at the nickname and turned around.

"You remember that tweet I wrote a couple years ago? My reply to the person who asked me what I thought of you? I meant it."

"What'd you say?" Brendon asked.

"You're my boy. Always will be."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is an alternate ending (for those who like happy endings, and don't we all?) Plus I wanted one more smut scene, so why not? Haha [insert devil face emoji here]
> 
> I wanted to include the Halsey scene and the thing Ryan had to say about it, because in real life it really bothered ME that Brendon sang Sins with her. I want Ryan to work with her so badly!!
> 
> This was a blast to write. Cathartic, actually. Thank you again for reading and please keep leaving comments and kudos if you liked the story.


	16. Reinvent Love -- [Alternate Ending]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an alternate ending for those of you like happy endings. :) Oh, and smut.  
> BE SURE TO READ CHAPTER 15 FIRST OR YOU'LL BE LOST!

"Ryan." He said. "You've always kinda had me."

 The room grew silent as they both let the words settle over them. The air felt heavy, and both of their eyes were shiny with unshed tears.

 "So...so what now?" Ryan asked, swallowing hard.

"I don't want to leave Sarah. I do love her. And I love  _you_ , I always have, but I don't know how we could have a future together when we can't be in the same room without fighting."

 "We would get past that. We're not making music together, anymore, so there would be nothing to fight about."

Brendon looked him straight in the eye. "We'd end up like one of those Hollywood couples, fighting about whose career is better and who makes more money."

"Well, that'll clearly be me." Ryan said, laughing.  Brendon rolled his eyes at him, but he was smiling.

"Hey Brendon?" 

"Yeah?"

"Remember that time I punched you? Sorry about that."

Brendon burst out laughing. "You remember that time I had you pinned to the floor? Not sorry about that."

"Pfffft. I LET that happen. I just wanted you on top of me."

It was meant as a joke, but as soon as it was out, there was a whole new type of tension in the room.

"Are you going to leave her?" Ryan asked.

There was a long pause. Ryan's heart pounded as he nervously waited for an answer. Then Brendon nodded. "I have to leave her."

"That won't be easy for you."

"No. It'll be the hardest thing I've ever done in my life." It was the truth.

Ryan put his beer down and walked over to where Brendon sat at the kitchen island. Brendon twisted on the stool to face him, and Ryan knelt and put his head in Brendon's lap, wrapping his arms around him. "I'm sorry. We'll make this work, I know we can."

Brendon stroked Ryan's hair. In spite of the heavy mood that hung over him, having Ryan's head that close to his groin was doing things to him. They stayed that way in silence for a few minutes, and then Brendon said, "I know what you can do to cheer me up."

Ryan raised his head to look at him, eyebrows raised, forehead wrinkling. "Oh yeah?"

Brendon reached down and grabbed Ryan's arm, lifting it up and settling his palm on top of the now-obvious bulge in his pants. Ryan groaned, instantly turned on. "Are you sure?" he asked.

"Let's go to your bedroom and I'll show you how sure I am."

Ryan stood slowly, not wanting to seem _too_  eager. "I just thought you'd want to talk to..."

Brendon hopped off the stool and grabbed Ryan's shirt, pulling him close and silencing him with a kiss. It wasn't the wild, out of control kiss they'd had after Emo Night. It was a slow, soft give-and-take that promised more to come, both at that moment and in the future.

Ryan led him to the dark bedroom, but he didn't turn on the lights, choosing instead to light candles ("you're such a chick," laughed Brendon). Then they took their time undressing each other and getting into the bed, facing each other on their sides. "I need to ask you one more time...are you sure?" Ryan said, sounding slightly nervous. Their hands trailed gently up and down each other's naked bodies.

"I'm fucking sure," Brendon said huskily, then abruptly rolled until he was on top of Ryan, kissing him wildly and slowly rubbing their hard cocks together. Ryan moaned into his mouth, reaching down to put his hands on Brendon's ass, encouraging the friction. 

"I take it this isn't going to be another circle jerk?" he managed to say.

Brendon laughed. "No circle jerk. I wanna fuck you so bad."

Ryan moaned again. "I want you to fuck me."

"Hey, wow...we're not at an impasse anymore."

"Shut the fuck up," laughed Ryan. 

Brendon slid down the bed, licking his way down Ryan's neck, then chest, then hipbone.Then he took Ryan's cock in his mouth. The noises Ryan was making were a huge turn-on. Brendon didn't want to rush this, but patience wasn't his strong suit. He continued sucking Ryan's dick and slid one hand up his thigh. He cupped his balls in his palm for a minute, then moved his hand slowly lower until his finger was just tracing the outside of his hole. Ryan gasped and said, "I don't want to come this way. I want to come with you inside me." The words made Brendon groan. _So fucking hot._

"Where's the stuff?"

"Top drawer on the right."

Brendon reluctantly stopped what he was doing and went to get the lube and condoms. He wished he didn't have to wear one, especially with Ryan, but since they weren't exactly monogamous yet he knew he had to. He returned to the bed to see Ryan lazily stroking himself, his eyes half closed, his lips red and swollen from the kissing. It was so sexy, he could have stood there and watched all day. 

"Get the fuck over here," Ryan said. Brendon didn't need to be asked twice. He climbed back up beside Ryan, kissing him. Ryan let go of his own dick and started stroking Brendon's as they kissed. Brendon pulled back to open the lube and squirt some onto his fingers, then he inched his way back down the bed, resuming the blowjob as he brought his fingers down to the ring of muscle, teasing the outside before slowly easing one finger inside. The noise Ryan made was enough to make Brendon want to come right then. He slid his finger in and out gently, not wanting to hurt him. Then he crooked it until he found just the right spot, making Ryan gasp again and grind down on his finger. "Brendon...stop blowing me, I don't want to come yet."

Brendon listened, taking his mouth off Ryan's dick and putting it on Ryan's hipbone instead, licking and sucking hard with his full lips, undoubtedly leaving a mark. "More fingers," Ryan pleaded.

"Now, now, don't get greedy."

" _Brendon."_

Brendon laughed and slipped a second finger inside. The moan that tore from Ryan's throat sent a jolt right to Brendon's dick. He didn't think he could possibly get any harder.

After he worked a third finger in, Ryan couldn't wait any longer. "Brendon, I _need_ you to fuck me now." 

Brendon climbed back onto the bed, this time on his knees between Ryan's legs. He opened the condom and rolled it on. 

"You ready?"

"Oh I'm more than fucking ready." To prove his point, he spread his legs further, bending his knees. 

"Put a pillow under your ass," Brendon commanded, and Ryan did. He looked so sexy and exposed. "Goddamn, I want you _so_  much right now."

Brendon leaned down, supporting his weight on his left forearm as he used his right hand to guide his cock to Ryan's hole. He entered slowly, taking his cues from the sounds Ryan was making. Once he was all the way in, he knelt back. Ryan's hand was back on his cock again, but not stroking, just gently squeezing. Brendon wondered how close he was.

He started to move, slowly at first but then gradually increasing the pace when he saw that Ryan was taking it just fine. Moving Ryan's hand away, he moved into missionary position and captured Ryan's mouth with his own again. Ryan was moaning uncontrollably; the friction of Brendon's stomach against his dick combined with Brendon's cock buried deep within him was better than anything he'd felt in years. Since last time he was _with_ Brendon.

Brendon kept the pace slow and steady for the first few minutes. He didn't want it to end too soon. Gradually he picked up speed and the thrusts got harder, rougher. What started out as making love became down and dirty sex, and filthy words were pouring out of both of their mouths, grunting, gasping, grabbing at each other's exposed skin like they couldn't get enough.

"I need to come, Ry, like right now, I'm gonna--"

"I'm right there with you." moaned Ryan.

In one quick move, Brendon got on his knees again. Still buried deep within him, he grabbed Ryan's cock in his hand and pumped, hard and fast, watching as he came, hot come spurting over his chest and stomach. It seemed to go on forever and Ryan's eyes were practically rolling back in his head. Then Brendon quickly pulled out of him, ripped the condom off, gave his own dick two quick pumps and shot his come onto Ryan's stomach too. 

Spent, he slumped down on the bed beside Ryan, his mouth against his ear. "I'll clean you up later." He whispered, chuckling.

Ryan looked practically sedated. He slurred, "Don' worry 'bout it, I'll just lay here in this mess we made."

Brendon became serious at that. _This mess we made._ It summed everything up perfectly. Nuzzling against Ryan's ear, he whispered, "I love you so fucking much. I always have."

"I love you too. I missed you."

*********

**3 months later**

All of their friends and family knew, but the fans were still in the dark about their relationship. It was the opening night of Panic's tour, and Brendon and Ryan had a plan.

The show was sold out and the crowd was already wild. It was in Las Vegas, their hometown, so that made it even more meaningful. It was the most fun that Brendon had experienced at a show in ages. He thanked the crowd for coming and announced that it would be the last song, which elicited a collective disappointed "awwwww" from the fans.

"This is an oldie but a goody. I haven't played it live for quite a while because, well...I don't like to cry onstage."

The crowd screamed. They knew what song he meant, even before he started strumming Northern Downpour.

He started singing and realized he might cry anyway.

_If all our life is but a dream_

_Fantastic posing greed_

_hen we should feed our jewelry to the sea_

_For diamonds do appear to be_

_Just like broken glass to me_

_And then she said she can't believe_  
_Genius only comes along_  
_In storms of fabled foreign tongues_  
_Tripping eyes, and flooded lungs_  
_Northern downpour sends its love_

And then, Ryan walked onto the stage, holding a wireless microphone, and began to sing with Brendon.

_Hey moon, please forget to fall down_

_Hey moon, don't you go down_

For a minute Brendon was afraid this was a bad idea. He'd never seen a crowd react the way this one did. Some were screaming, some had tears pouring down their faces, and everyone was stomping their feet and clapping and cheering so hard and loud that he doubted anyone could even hear the song anymore. He was afraid there might be a riot. A happy riot.

That, however, was nothing compared to when the song ended and Brendon grabbed Ryan and kissed him. Not a stage kiss like they used to do, but a real, long, deep kiss.

Then he turned to the crowd, grinned wildly, and said, "So _now_ you motherfuckers know the Ryden truth!" Laughing, he couldn't resist adding, "Oh, by the way -- my apologies to all you Brallon shippers out there."

And together, all five of them, Brendon, Ryan, Dallon, Kenny, and Dan stood at the front center stage, linked hands, and took a bow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One last thing: for those who didn't know that Brendon cries when he performs Northern Downpour live, here's the video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yVXq-4B4PEY
> 
> Thank you again so much for reading!


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